Turning the Page
by RZZMG
Summary: Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning... When Hermione Granger wakes up in bed next to her co-worker, Draco Malfoy, and can't remember the night before, you know something magical is responsible. Mystery-comedy-romance-magical creature mating (Veela). Dramione/DHr. 2014 Smutty-Claus Fest entry. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

 **This was my 2014 HP Smutty-Claus Fic Exchange Fest (smutty-claus . livejournal . com) entry. This fanfic is finished. It is a multi-chaptered fic, but I'll put up a new chappie every few days until done.**

 _My prompt for the fest was:_ _pairing wakes up in bed together with no recollection of how they got there and have to work it out together,_ and _some sort of Christmas party (or just a party in general) but with a twist,_ and _comedy-fluff-sexy fun._

 **To my fest exchange partner, Shy-Of-Reality: I really had fun writing this fic for you - hope you enjoy it!**

 **To the Smutty-Claus Mod: You put the 'awe' in awesome. Love this fest! Thanks for hosting it again this year!**

* * *

 **DISCLAIMER:** "Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. This fanfiction was written entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.

 **TIMELINE:** 2010 (canon up to the "Half-Blood Prince" novel, but completely A/U after)

 **CHARACTERS FEATURED (alphabetical order, last name):** Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy

 **SUMMARY:** Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning...

 **RATING:** NC-17 (MA)

 **WARNINGS:** One-off that leads to lots of sex (explicit), Sex Pollen fic (magical creature mating- **can you guess which kind?** ), Characters a bit OOC for the sake of the plot

 **EXTRA NOTES:**

This fic uses the British-English spellings for words.

Fluni = Slang for the drug, Flunitrazepam (common brand name Rohypnol, nickname 'roofies'), which is a sedative, often called the 'date rape drug'.

Draco joined the Order after Dumbledore's death. After the war, he & Hermione are Aurors.

* * *

 _ **TURNING THE PAGE**_

 _ **by: RZZMG**_

* * *

A woodpecker on steroids had taken up residence inside Hermione's skull, and he was hard at work drilling a new home. All his banging around, in fact, was making her quite woozy. Her head spun and her stomach rolled.

Bugger, she sighed, as she groggily pushed the too-warm blankets off her chest and sat up. She'd drunk entirely too much last night at Ron and Pansy's wedding reception, hadn't she?

While her best friends had been closing one chapter of their lives as separate individuals to open up a new one of togetherness, she'd lamented that page turning by drinking several shots of top-shelf Firewhisky...which accounted for the giant, uncomfortable hang-over—a sensation she was intimately acquainted with the morning after every one of her friend's weddings that she'd attended over the years.

The last time she'd overindulged like this, she'd ended up in bed with that git, Blaise Zabini, and it had taken two additional years of having him for a boyfriend after that for her to realise what a tremendous mistake it was attempting to make a real relationship out of a drunken one-off.

No good beginnings ever came from desperation, loneliness, and faulty judgement calls. That was, in fact, the recipe for a rather bad ending.

Bah, enough with the depressing thoughts! The real questions were: where was she this time and what had happened the night before, and why in Merlin's good name did she feel as if the whole world was gently swaying up and down?

Bleary-eyed and woolly-headed, she blinked multiple times to make the room come into focus. Black and white walls, charcoal grey carpeting, large nautical-styled windows to the left that looked out over the ocean.

Nope, not her bedroom.

Bloody hell.

Clothes were strewn haphazardly over the few pieces of furniture in the vicinity, as if they'd been tossed aside in a hurry without care. Yes, that was definitely her horrid-looking bridesmaid's dress lying in a pool of puffy crinoline and magenta and lime green satin on the floor. One of her Dior pumps was visible near the open door, clearly the first of her outfit to be shucked, but where the other might be, she had no clue.

Christ on a cracker, what had she done, and with whom!?

It hurt too much to think, she realised as her head began throbbing in time to her heartbeat. Maybe she shouldn't do that for a bit, and just allow herself to take in the situation and the surroundings without judgment.

First things first, she needed to find out if she was currently sharing this extravagantly large bed with someone, and if so, who that might be. Gripping her pounding head, she slowly turned to look over her shoulder, hoping not to encounter anything shocking.

She supposed she should have qualified what determined the definition of 'shocking' before she'd looked. If 'shocking' was finding a naked man she recognised instantly by his distinctive cap of white-blond hair, face down and sprawled out in a deep snooze lying next to her, then she'd hit the mother lode. She was decidedly shocked.

And distressed, alarmed, amazed, and reeling in disbelief, too.

What in the seven hells was a nude Draco Malfoy doing in bed with her? And why were there scratches all up and down his back and shoulders and arms? And what was with the very clear love bite that decorated the visible side of his throat? And why did his arse have small, fingertip-shaped bruises on them? And why was he clutching her French-lace knickers to his nose as he slept?

She looked down at her own state of nudity...and at her own set of bruises on her hips...and at her bare-lipped pussy, which _hadn't_ been shaved when she'd left for the wedding yesterday afternoon...and at the deeply embedded teeth imprint around her left nipple...and at the giant, loose diamond ( _was that thing real?!_ ) winking at her from the cavern of her bellybutton where she'd apparently had it pierced.

Oh, no.

With trembling fingers, she reached and felt between her legs for the distinctive moisture that would signal...

Oh, shit.

She was wet and sore—very much so on both counts. There was no doubt about it: she'd definitely shagged her co-worker the night before.

But how...and _why?_

* * *

 _ **TO BE CONTINUED...**_

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes:**

 **A few changes to the fest entry in this chapter, so if you read the original, here's some new/changed things for you.**

* * *

 _Think, think, think_ , she told herself.

Why would she have had sex with Draco Malfoy, and why would he be sniffing her knickers in his sleep?

As she tried to recreate yesterday, she ticked off the things she did remember:

One - She'd attended Ron and Pansy's wedding reception, dateless and dressed in costume as a blossoming fuchsia peony (which was probably correlated somehow, she just couldn't think that hard about it at the moment to follow that logic chain).

Two - She'd run into her vile ex-boyfriend, Blaise Zabini, who'd been invited as Pansy's guest to the wedding and who had been behaving as his usual wanking self towards her, cutting jibes her way all night.

Three - She'd consumed a few Firewhisky shots to help deal with Blaise's incessant harassment.

Four - Draco had swooped down out of nowhere to come to her rescue, pretending to be her date for the event. He'd shared her drink with her and then whisked her off to the dance floor to help her get away from Blaise, and then...then...

No way.

Gaping at the big blank spot in her memory, Hermione wasn't sure whether to scream or cry at the irony: she'd had her first one-off of the year, and it had been with one of the most eligible bachelors in England, a man most witches would give up their inheritances to kiss, a man she worked with on a daily basis, a man who was friends with everyone she knew, a man who had been her friend, of a sorts, until last night, a man she'd fancied since the war after he'd turned spy for the Order and had saved Harry's life at considerable risk to his own...AND SHE COULD NOT REMEMBER HAVING HAD SEX WITH HIM!

With a sob that was half bitter laugh, half despair, she dashed to her feet, ignoring the way her stomach heaved at the swaying under her (they were on a boat, weren't they?), and headed for the open doorway that clearly led into a bathroom. Once there, she shut the door and locked it, and then slumped down the wall and buried her face in her hands.

How could this have happened? What in Hades had made both her and Draco think it a good idea for them to shag? And why couldn't she recall any of the details? Had she really consumed that much Firewhisky? Had he? Had they been caught up in the romance of the occasion, or had there been a rational discussion on mutual feelings and desires for each other in advance? Had he been the one to suggest they move things to a more private location, or had it been her? Under what conditions would that conversation have even taken place? Had anyone seen them leaving the party together? Would there be a write up in today's paper about her and Draco shacking up for the night?

Where were they anyway, and for Merlin's sake, why did the room keep moving up and down? She was definitely on a boat, wasn't she? She hated boats almost as much as brooms!

Good God, what should she do now? Should she sneak out and head home as fast as her wand could carry her, or should she go out there and confront him about what they'd done? Should she demand answers about his memories and motives, or pretend last night hadn't meant anything significant to her to save what was left of her pride?

Her head pounded hard in her temples, nearly making her cry.

"Fuck, Granger, you're loud enough to wake the dead. Calm down, will you?"

Stiffening, she stopped breathing and listened. Draco was right outside the door and he definitely sounded grouchy and hung-over.

Wait, had she been talking to herself? She'd been known to do so in the past, sure, but this time, she'd thought…

No, she truly couldn't recall speaking out loud.

Huh.

"We'll work through this," he told her, seemingly unaffected by the gravity of the situation or of her confusion over how he'd known what she'd been thinking. "Just do as the Muggles say and chillax for once in your life, woman."

Of all the condescending… Chill-what? Who in their right mind said such nonsense at their age?

And what about this situation, exactly, invited a person to breathe easy and be cool, anyway? They'd woken up in bed together, for Merlin's sake! They'd apparently shagged their brains out last night…after he'd shaved her pussy and pierced her bellybutton with a diamond the size of Sardinia! She wasn't walking right for a week, and he'd have to slap a plaster on that throat of his to hide the battle scars. Wasn't that the least bit upsetting to him? How could he sound so composed?

"Are you coming out this century?" he asked. "I have to use the bathroom."

"No, now go away," she growled, irritated that he seemed completely at ease with having had sex with her. Why wasn't he more affected by it? Was it such a normal thing for him to wake up with a strange woman in his bed in the morning that it simply didn't faze him anymore?

She definitely must have said that bit out loud because he replied, "You're not a strange woman, for fuck's sake! I've known you since I was eleven. That's nearly twenty years!" He pounded on the door with his fist. "Now open up or I'll have no choice but to relieve myself all over your dress on the floor."

His threat really didn't hold the kind of weight he'd probably intended, as Hermione considered it more an offer rather than a warning. Sadly, a neon yellow stain wouldn't, in fact, help her dress look any better. It was simply too ugly a thing to be salvaged, even by urine. She'd be glad to be rid of it as soon as she got back to her flat today.

"Just make sure you aim and hit the magenta part square on," she advised him. "Shampooing pee out of a carpet can be a nasty task."

He sighed and a beat later, the door opened without another warning.

He was starkers, of course, and despite his sleep-tousled hair and slightly hung-over expression, Draco Malfoy was still rather gorgeous. And wow, he was really, _really_ fit, too. The continual training they had to engage in as Aurors required them to be in shape, sure, but for a man who was hitting thirty next month, he had a body a decade younger.

And he was big. All over.

As the blood in her body rushed to her head, making her headache worse, Hermione quickly turned away. Her skin felt as if there was a four-alarm blaze happening in her capillaries, and her stomach flipped, which made her slightly queasy.

"I said this loo was occupied. Kindly leave," she requested, put out with his audacity, but he merely moved into the room towards the toilet and lifted the lid. "You're not serious!" she gasped.

The man had no shame!

She hit the bedroom and had the bathroom door shut behind her right as he began peeing. His tired laughter followed her out.

Smug bastard.

* * *

 _ **TO BE CONTINUED...**_

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **I was really excited by the reception this silly, little piece has received so far. Reviews = love, and I appreciate every single one from you! THANK YOU!**

 **XOXO,**

 **\- RZZMG**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes:**

 **Some more SPaG and additional content changes from the original fest entry below. Hope you enjoy the new stuff!**

* * *

On top of her earlier worries, now Hermione had an even bigger dilemma to contend with: her co-worker-slash-secret crush was fully awake...and back to his usual mocking self.

Joy.

What was she going to do now? Her options seemed limited to throwing on her clothes lickety-split and pulling a runner or grabbing the sheet, wrapping it around herself, and demanding he-

The toilet flushed, the tap ran for a moment, and then Malfoy was standing in the open doorway, drying his hands on a towel. With a quick up and down glance, he took her in from head to toe, and a slow, devastating smile crawled up his cheek. "Well, well. It seems I finally got something right between us, my Granger. It's about bloody time."

Hermione dashed across the room and tore the bedding from the mattress, wrapping the soft, cool satin about her nakedness. "A-ha! So, you don't remember what you did to me last night!" she stated, somewhat miffed by the thought.

Surely it hadn't been that bad a shag...had it?

She tossed him a baleful eye. "Months of chasing after me for a date, months of both our friends hammering away at me to give you a chance, months of putting up with that humiliating interdepartmental betting pool regarding you and my knickers...and you can't even remember slipping it to me, can you?" She made a _pftttt_ sound and crossed her arms in righteous indignation. "You are an utter cad, Draco Malfoy!"

He laughed. "What a little hypocrite you are, sweet cheeks, since it appears you're in the same boat I am...figuratively _and_ literally speaking," he countered, crossing his arms and leaning against the bathroom doorpost. "You can't recall a bloody thing about last night, either, can you? _Can you?_ "

Her whole body flushed with sexual awareness and her nipples went instantly hard as Draco challenged her.

How was it that this same defiant behaviour from the ferrety git during their formative school days had made her itch to castrate him back then, but a dozen years later, now it only made her want to lick him all over instead?

It had to have something to do with the long, attractive package currently swinging between his legs, because as he moved, lounging so sexily in the bathroom doorway, she suddenly found herself staring at it with an eager and lusty appreciation. Good god, it was like some sort of freaky snake charming device! Or lion taming. Whatever.

She blinked and forcibly turned away, her cheeks burning. "Will you please put some clothes on so we can talk?" she requested. "You're...distracting."

The blond prat actually chuckled at that. "Am I really? Well, then I'll have to politely decline, love, as I find I'm enjoying redirecting your attention towards other more profitable thoughts."

She clucked her tongue in annoyance. "You're impossibly smug about all of this."

"This isn't conceit, Granger. This is contentment."

"It certainly sounds to me as if your ego is doing all the talking today."

"Well, it's not."

She turned back and cast a cynical expression in his direction. "Then, for the record, you're stating that you're not in the least bit inclined to swagger and strut about like a vain peacock at the knowledge that I finally went to bed with you after nearly a dozen years of trying every line in the Slytherin playbook to get into my vagina?"

He stared hard at her. "No, I'm not. I am, however, feeling a sudden and great desire to do a bit of strangling, though. Care to step up and volunteer?" He actually growled then. "And for your information, it wasn't twelve years, it was only ten. Who's the arrogant one again?"

She huffed, he sniffed.

"And I didn't try _every_ line."

He sounded a bit sulky at that.

Hermione glanced at him sideways. Draco truly looked upset by her accusations, which told her more than his words ever could. Perhaps whatever had happened between them the night before hadn't been pre-planned by him, and he hadn't been responsible for her memory gaps, after all.

Which left her wondering how in Hades it was she could ever have forgotten making love to him, because that had been an event she'd ached for and dreamed of for years. That she couldn't remember anything significant at all in the aftermath was not just a maddening mystery, but also terribly disappointing to her as well. With his own memory of the night apparently lost, too, now she'd never be able to know how it had been between them. Had they connected body-to-body, soul-to-soul as she'd always fantasized, or had it been merely about sating sexual hungers and agreeing to move on? That knowledge was lost forever, it seemed, and that made her heavyhearted.

Clearing her throat, she figured she might as well attempt some civility, since he didn't appear to be at fault, if she was properly reading the signs. "Right. So...what now?"

He shrugged. "We go back to bed."

She tightened the sheets around her with a twist of her hand, unsure if that idea wasn't the worst one in the history of co-worker one-offs and deserved an argument or if she should just give into the temptation and make a whole new set of epic mistakes today with Malfoy—this time, memorable ones. Decisions, decisions...

"And why would we do that?" she asked, trying to buy herself some time to come up with a third alternative.

Draco frowned at that. "To sleep. Maybe to fuck again later, once we're both more rested... Why are you so squirrelly all of the sudden?"

 _Because you're gloriously naked and suck-able,_ she thought, _and I really want to run my mouth all over you this instant._

"Because I'm understandably nervous right now," she said instead, feeling her palms grow slick with a feverish need to touch him.

As if he'd discarded her words in favour of listening in on her more honest thoughts and impulses instead, he rewarded her with a slow, wicked smile. "Is that so?" he asked, his voice thick with lusty insinuation.

He shifted then, and it took all of Hermione's willpower to keep her eyes from drifting downwards to seek out the niggle of movement between his legs again. No way was she getting caught in that mesmerizing action twice. "Yes, I just said," she reiterated, fanning herself with a hand and wondering if all those spontaneous combustion stories she'd read about had any real truth to them or not.

Noting her distress, Draco's teasing waned. "Why?"

A third alternative suddenly presented itself: rationally discussing the matter to death. That's what Hermione did best, after all. "Because regardless of the fact that we've each experienced a disturbing loss of memories of the last twelve or so hours, we're both cognizant that some level of physical intimacy passed between us last night," she pointed out, switching into 'professional mode'. "Our relationship, therefore, has evolved and requires us to come to some form of an agreement and an arrangement as to its future."

"Agreement? _Arrangement?_ " He almost sounded offended. "You're starting to sound like a pure-blood princess looking for a pre-nup, Granger." He jerked his chin towards her bellybutton, and the piercing that lay just beneath the sheets that covered it. "What, wasn't the diamond good enough for you? Or do you need a bigger declaration of my intentions? I suppose I can always get you a ring for your finger to match, if you want."

She _tsked_ at him for joking at a time like this. "I'm talking about our co-worker relationship, you dolt! What we did here last night...this is going to alter that dynamic, like it or not."

He raised an eyebrow at that. "Why does it have to?"

Unbelievable! Could he not see that _everything_ had changed?

Pushing off from the wall, he approached her. "It was about time they did, too! Ten years of trying to get your attention the old-fashioned Slytherin way was getting me nowhere with you. Potter and Weasley were right—you needed me to act, not attempt to manipulate you into making the first move." Reaching out, he tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "I needed to change, my Granger, or we were never getting here."

She rubbed at her achy temple. "Do you realise you always refer to me so possessively? Why do you do that? We're not even officially dating, but you talk about me as if I'm your significant other."

The idea irritated her, because in truth, she'd wanted him to think of her in such a manner—had for a long time now—but Draco had always been impossible to pin down. Like a male butterfly, he'd always liked his freedom...and his women. Not that she'd been totally celibate over the years, but she couldn't boast near the number of partners he'd taken to bed. And all along, even when he was with those other women, he'd shamelessly flirted with her, tossing out provocative innuendo or joking propositions that always ended in her scolding or smacking him, and invariably nursing a sore heart. It bothered her now that he would continue to play this game with her, especially as they'd obviously crossed a line last night.

"Where's my blasted wand?" she asked, too tired to attempt summoning it to her hand.

Draco did it for her, calling her wand to him and then crossing over to her. He used it on her to cure her headache with a simple healing spell.

She frowned at that.

Her second wand, which she'd purchased to replace her Vine wood one, which was lost during the war, was made of Cedar with a dragon heart-string core. Its greatest characteristic, according to Mr. Ollivander, was its ability to discern its owner's level of intelligence and perceptiveness and, if it found them worthy, would fiercely commit itself with all loyalty only to them. None of her friends could use her wand without it either backfiring on them or refusing to cast their desired spell altogether. Draco was the first to be able to pick it up without it stinging him, too.

"You're welcome," he said, handing the wand to her.

"Oh, uh, thanks," she stammered after the fact, staring at her wand. "But, um...how did you do that without my wand attacking you?" She explained the wand's properties to him. "It shouldn't have consented to you that easily, if at all. It's certainly never done so for anyone else since I procured it."

Draco was silent for a long while in the face of that revelation, so she glanced up at him to find out why.

He was staring...no, _glaring_ at her chest.

"Drop the sheet, Granger," he demanded. "Drop it right now."

* * *

 _ **TO BE CONTINUED...**_

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes:**

 **A few more changes here and there for you...**

* * *

 _"Drop the sheet, Granger," he demanded. "Drop it right now."_

Hermione gaped at him. "W-what? No!"

Malfoy reached forward and yanked the sheet from her grip anyway, baring her to the world once more. Then, before she could bolt and find something else to hide behind, he took hold of her shoulders in a firm grip and forced her to stay put.

"I'll kick you where it hurts if you don't let go this instant!" she threatened in a high voice, attempting to yank free. She dug her fingernails into his forearms, embarrassed by the way he was simply staring at her. "Let go!"

"Be still," he countered. "Stop! Just…stop fighting me, please."

Maybe it was the 'please' that did it, since Hermione knew Draco would rather tear out his own toenails than plead for anything. Unsure what he was after or how far to trust him, but concerned by how grave he suddenly appeared, she reluctantly did as requested and stop struggling. She watched him instead, looking for clues as to what might be the matter, but his face gave nothing away.

He didn't move, didn't even seem to breathe. He just stared at her naked breasts in complete silence.

"What is it?" she asked after a while, her insatiable curiosity needing to be eased before she popped from the suspense.

What was wrong? What did he see that she didn't?

Finally, he said, "I bit you." He released her shoulders and lightly feathered over the bite mark upon her left breast. "Right here."

The light caress made her body instantly react. Her heart started pounding, and she went tight from head to toe with a sudden, throbbing sexual need. A small moan escaped her lips.

Draco froze, finger still on her nipple, and she could feel his body shudder in answer. Swearing under his breath, he glanced up at her.

"I didn't just shag you. I _bit_ you. Do you know what this means, Granger? It means we've finally done it."

"Done what?" she asked, voice breathy, body tingling and trembling. Between her legs, she could feel the trickle of her arousal as it flowed through her bare lower lips, preparing her body for him.

Draco's nostrils flared as he inhaled and smelled her arousal. A rumble of pleasure rolled through his chest. He closed his eyes, clearly struggling to maintain some control. "Done _it._ Crossed the line. No going back now."

"That's what I've been saying," she said, practically panting now as her body went slick with desire. "Things will change now."

"No, you don't–" He breathed a greedy sigh and the hold he suddenly took on her right wrist to anchor him tightened just the tiniest bit. "Fuck, but you smell wonderful," he sighed. "I want–" His lips clamped into a tight line and he shook his head. "I _want._ "

When he opened his eyes, they burned with a dark, fiery lust.

He leaned towards her, his mouth tilting to catch hers. As his lips parted for him, Hermione caught the glimpse of his teeth. They seemed whiter and sharper than usual.

The thought was instantly lost, however, when his mouth careened into hers. Draco claimed her with a languid, deep kiss, and the hand at her breast cupped her supple flesh, kneading it. His fingers gave her nipple a little series of pinches guaranteed to make her ache for more. Spine bowing in response, she arched her back, offering more of herself up to his touch.

Dizzy with sudden need to feel him between her thighs, she manoeuvered them over towards the bed, plundering Draco's mouth with her tongue, licking every crevice and claiming ownership of it.

He groaned in response, allowing her to take him where she willed.

They made it to the bed, and she reached up to fist his hair in her hands to pull him down on top of her as she laid back into it. Pressing her into the mattress with his greater weight, Draco nudged her legs open, insistent that they part to make room for him. His hands were everywhere on her, searching, finding, exploiting every sensitive spot, and then fingers were in her, spreading her open once more for him.

Hermione winced with the twinge of discomfort that came from her swollen, hot body being stretched open once again. The night's activities had left her sore and a little achy.

In tune with her on a level she couldn't mentally comprehend, but still felt deep inside her heart, Draco sensed her body's tenderness and slowed, gentling his hand's movements. His fingers leisurely eased in and out of her as his thumb lightly brushed over her soft, delicate clit instead, sending electricity arcing up her spine.

Without words, he bent his head to press adoring, lazy kisses upon her throat, then lower, at her breast. As his lips brushed over the bite mark he'd given her the night before, a rush of magic passed between them, filling Hermione with its sweet, quickening pleasure. Her heart slowed in her chest and her body loosened, surrendering to him.

He was so gentle with her, so...loving.

His fingers slid out of her, to be replaced by the long, slow glide of his cock instead. The thick heft of him tenderly stretched her open, and her body adapted, easily accepting all of him. She held onto his shoulders as he lay over her, spreading her knees as far apart as they could go and welcoming him inside her.

When he was seated to the hilt, he paused, shaky and panting against her throat. His mouth lifted to her ear. " _My_ Granger," he softly growled, laying claim to not just her body, but her soul, too.

"God, Draco," she gasped in pleasure and wrapped her arms tightly around him, burying her nose in his throat as he began moving.

His hips were relaxed as he rolled them, sliding forward again without haste, swaying in and out like the waves beneath them. He took his time loving her, his hold on her absolute as if she were the most precious thing in his life and this the most important moment he'd ever known. Tears pricked her eyes as she felt the first surge of desire sweep over her senses, taking her into the clouds, and with a cry, she gave herself over to it.

* * *

 _ **TO BE CONTINUED...**_

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **So, smut. Finally. Liked it? Loved it? Hated it? Wanted more? Don't worry, lovelies, more smut coming. :)**

 **Please review!**

 **XOXO,**

 **\- RZZMG**

 **P.S. Once more, just reiterating: British spellings for words used for this fic.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes:**

 **MAJOR changes here in this chapter. I've decided that the original fest piece (written in something of a rush, I admit) really didn't convey the story as I'd have liked. This revision 2.0 version rewrites the ending, so if you've read the original, I hope you'll compare & contrast the two stories, and let me know which one you preferred. **

**If this is your first time reading this tale, perhaps you'd be good enough to review and let me know if this worked for you or not.**

 **XOXO!**

* * *

Once the tremors subsided, Draco kissed her gently, sweetly.

"You're mine, finally," he sighed against her mouth. "All mine."

His fingers trailed between their sweaty bodies, finding the bellybutton piercing and stroking over it.

"My wife...my _mate_."

The words registered, but Hermione was too enthralled with his distracting hands and lips, and with the slow rocking motion he made with his hips to stop and have a conversation about it. He was still so hard inside her, determined to prove his possession of her, and she found her body responding again.

"More," she moaned, pressing her knees tighter against his sides to keep him from pulling out and moving off. "I need more, Draco. Please!"

His lips trailed a path down her throat, over the delicate bones of her shoulder even as he slowly worked his hips in a rocking motion that had him hitting at the right spots, making her see stars. When he wrapped his tongue around her nipple and sucked, licking over the bite mark he'd left upon her breast, Hermione's whole body shuddered in response. Nibbling electric shocks of pleasure ran the length of her spine and had her arching her back, offering herself up to him again, even as he bottomed out inside her, bringing them fully together again and again.

"Oh, my god. Don't...stop!"

That odd growling-purring sound emitted from his chest again. Then, wrapping his arms around her, he rolled them so she was sprawled atop of him in a gloriously disheveled heap. With a firm grip, he resettled her over his cock until she could feel it throbbing deep within her.

"Your turn," he offered, and with a firm grip on her hips, he guided her to move over him for his pleasure. "Take me."

Tossing her head back, Hermione closed her eyes and rode him hard, wanting to possess him as thoroughly as he'd done her. Every glide forward was met by his upwardly surging hips, forcing him deep into her slick, wet cunt.

His hands were everywhere, exploring her waist, her belly, cupping her breasts and thumbing her nipples. He traced the mark he'd left on her, played with the piercing in her belly, circling the proof of his claim upon her and causing a ripple effect of heat throughout her body in response.

"You're beautiful," he whispered as she dug her nails into his chest, leaving behind reddish-purple, crescent-shaped divots in his skin. "So fucking beautiful, my Granger."

There it was again—that arrogant, lordly persistence of ownership over her. Was it a declaration of his intentions, or simply a reiterating of the truth? She had to know...

Heavy-lidded and trembling with insatiable lust, she continued her relentless pace and pinned him down, meeting his warm, silvery gaze.

"You're Veela, aren't you?"

He pursed his lips and stared at her, clearly on the fence between confession and diversion.

"You mated me, didn't you?" she persisted.

"Hermione..."

She reached up one hand and palmed her left breast, stroking over his bite mark, presenting it as proof of her theory. Her whole body shook, tightened as she lightly fingered over the two, small piercings he'd made with his canines. "I feel different now," she admitted. "I feel... _so much._ Everything." Desire slammed through her as she pinched the skin, pulling her nipple, and she threw her head back and wailed, "I can't stop!" Her hips were moving out of her control to a frantic pace now, fucking him so hard, the bed creaked ominously under them. "What have you done to me, Draco?"

He reached for her. "Granger, I‒"

She shoved him back down as he made to sit up, and bent so their mouths touched, preventing him from evading her question, again. "If you did this to me, and I'm yours now, then you're just as much mine, Draco. _MINE!"_ She growled now, feeling savage and powerfully possessive of her lover. She'd done her share of dating over the years, but this...this was a level of attraction that far exceeded anything she'd ever felt before. "And I don't share. Understand?"

Wonderment, then relief reflected in his face, and then there came a sudden and very final shift, as if some piece of the puzzle that had been them for so long finally notched itself into place in his brain and within his soul. A dark, feral intensity seemed to come over him.

His eyes gleamed like diamonds in the sunlight coming in through the round window nearby and his fierce smirk stole her breath.

"Hell, yes," he growled. "Fuck me and make me all yours, Granger. Mark me up and claim me."

So, she did.

* * *

When all of the straining and biting and scratching and snarling had reached its peak and tossed them into the storm together once more, when it was finally done and they were irrevocably mated to each other with full consent on both sides, Hermione slumped over Draco, exhausted and thoroughly sated.

Quietly, she lay within his arms until her breathing evened out and her blood returned to its normal courses. Only then did she allow her mind to retake the reins.

As rationality returned, so too did the answer as to _why_ they'd slept together last night. It hadn't just been something to do to stave off loneliness, or an itch to scratch, but because there was an undeniable, powerful connection between them...something that promised forever.

A Veela never chose a life mate on a whim, or so the old adage claimed. Yes, they were extremely sexual and weren't concerned about sleeping around, but as far as love and domestication were concerned, Hermione had read they were extremely picky creatures. Only a mate who met their specific criteria was good enough to settle down with and make baby Veela.

It seemed Draco's inner beast had decided she was his one and only.

She couldn't deny it, either: the sex had been good—really, _truly_ good. Mind-blowing, in fact. It had never been like that for her before, and she was guessing by Draco's reactions during their love-making and now, with his light, affectionate caressing of her skin in the afters, that he felt the same. He radiated contentment, the same as her, and he was holding her close as if he didn't plan to let her go.

Veela mates.

Well, that certainly explained everything, didn't it? From the office flirting to the jealous feelings every time she saw him with another women to the orgasms she'd given herself in secret while thinking of him. No wonder she'd been an absolute basket-case where Malfoy was concerned.

Surprising her quite suddenly, Draco drew her even closer to him, nuzzled into her hairline, and shushed her. "You're thinking too much again."

She frowned, pushed back a bit, and rose up on her elbow to look down at him. "And how would you know what I'm thinking?"

His eyebrow twitched and a slow, mysterious smile wound up his cheek. "Because I can hear you, my mate. Your thoughts flit about faster than a Snitch in the wind." He reached up and brushed her fringe out of her eyes. "Between worrying about who might have seen us leave together last night, whether we would appear in today's papers under some scandalous headline, and why it was you couldn't recall a thing we did after hitting the dance floor at the reception, I thought my head would explode. The only time that fantastic brain of yours was relatively quiet this morning was when I was fucking you."

She gaped at him. "You… That's not possible. Nothing in the literature stated Veela have psychic abilities."

He chuckled and in a quick move, rolled them and had her on her back again. "I've heard every unzipped, demented and naughty thought you've had all morning."

"Is that so?" She didn't believe a single word coming out of his mouth and the expression she shot him made sure he knew it. "Then what am I thinking right now?"

He chuckled, and the wicked sound shot straight through her like electricity.

"You want me to propose properly, despite the fact we're already married."

That gave her pause. What exactly did he mean by 'already married'?

Sliding a hand down her belly, he played with her piercing. "Don't recall how you got this, either, hmm? Allow me to remind you." He leaned forward and put his mouth to her ear, whispering, "Shacklebolt."

She jerked back as a fleeting memory surfaced, one of Kingsley asking her questions about fidelity and such while standing over her with a raised wand. "That's... No. I mean, I was... Well, I was clearly... _blotto_...last night. Minister or not, Kings would never‒"

"Oh, but he did. And we did," Draco insisted. He traced his tongue over her throat and down, down, down until his mouth was even with her bellybutton. "And we _are,_ my Granger." He kissed all around the flashy diamond piercing. "This was how you wanted to seal the deal, too worried you'd ruin a ring with your constant banging around at work."

Hermione considered that seriously, as it definitely sounded like something she'd propose, regardless of whether or not she'd been under the influence. After all, she _was_ known for acting rather rash and reckless on occasion.

Sometimes.

Okay, often.

"Wait, where did we get the bellybutton piercing?"

"Transfigured a ring." His warm, wet tongue bathing the spot was doing things to her that made it difficult to concentrate on his words. "Did the holes myself, with your permission, of course." He gently scraped over her flesh with one elongated Veela fang to make his point.

She ran her fingers through his soft hair and arched into him. "And where...did you get...the ring?" she asked, feeling a bit breathless from his amorous attentions.

He shrugged, dipping his mouth lower to place tiny, nipping kisses to her hips and thighs. "Been carrying it around for a while. Waiting for the right time." He circled the wet lips of her pussy with his tongue. "Guess my Veela decided he'd waited long enough."

Hermione whimpered and raised her hips, silently begging him to stop torturing her and to just get to the part where he sucked her clit already. "You...you wanted me before last night, then?"

Silvery eyes glanced up at her as he placed tormenting, open-mouthed kisses upon her tingling flesh. "For years and years," he admitted with an impish smirk. "Now shut up, and give me this sweet cunt again."

She widened her legs and threw her head back on the pillow as he pressed in, making room for himself, taking her over...making her head spin.

"Oh, god!" she moaned, accepting that she was so utterly his.

* * *

 _ **TO BE CONCLUDED...**_

* * *

 **Author's notes:**

 **One more chapter to go... Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6-Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

 **More changes from the original in this final scene.**

 **On another note, I want to apologise most sincerely for the long delay in finishing this tale off for you. I had a tragic loss in my immediate family in early November, and between handling all of the funerary arrangements, the financial mess, and the emotional devastation, writing was the last thing on my mind. I forced myself to finish off this year's Smutty-Claus fic, because the event is a fic exchange, and leaving my partner without a gift didn't sit well with me, however I dropped out of all other fests and turned away from my WIPs, needing time.**

 **Slowly, I feel the energy and want to write returning now, and so I'm starting small, with this last chapter to this fic. I also plan to post the next chapter of "Eros & Psyche" sometime next week, and then maybe if there's time, chapters to close out some stories that have been sitting almost done for a while, too. It's not much, but…I hope it'll be a nice gift for you. Happy Holidays, all!**

 **Much love,**

 **RZZMG**

* * *

 _ **~.~.~**_

 _ **EPILOGUE**_

 _ **~.~.~**_

"Did we drink too much, do you suppose?"

It was now mid-afternoon, and she and Draco had been sexually bonding for hours, and now she was a limp doll in his arms. With legs like jelly, she was certainly in no condition to move at the moment. Draco's soft caresses trailing across her brow and face only aided in lulling her into a state of indolence.

Yet, despite the fact her body was exhausted, her mind was still annoyingly active. To her constant dismay, she'd never properly learned how to set aside a riddle that needed answering, digging at it from all sides until she'd finally found its solution. In many ways, that made her an excellent Auror. In her private life, however, it tended to add up to sleepless nights and a brain that never shut itself off.

" _You're going to burn yourself out,"_ Harry was always telling her, and maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to consider meditation techniques. The mystery of why she'd lost her memories of the night before, however, needed answering before that, for it was a serious concern.

What had made her and Draco act so recklessly?

Not that she minded the result, but still…

"I've done my share of imbibing over the years," she admitted, "especially whenever the ex is around, but never enough to suffer a blackout period, much less do something as adventurous as get married and enjoy a honeymoon period on a co-worker's yacht."

Draco gave a sigh, as if he was resigned to her need to talk this subject to death. "I suspect Zabini slipped something into your drink while he was cozying up to you at the bar, distracting you with insults. Probably a potion that, when combined with alcohol, really helped to lower your ambitions, maybe even turn you on a bit, too. Remember I drank the last of your Firewhisky before dragging you off to dance, and my memories of the rest of the night are sporadic, too. I think, if he did spike your drink, the plan was for you to go home with him last night. He just didn't count on me interfering."

She turned her head to meet his eye. "You think he slipped me a Fluni? But…but that's against the law! Even he wouldn't be so foolish!"

Draco snorted. "A man obsessed is dangerous enough, but Zabini's a Slytherin who's not only obsessed, but also in love with you, my Granger. There's nothing he wouldn't dare to have you. Believe me, I know."

She blinked three complete times before what he'd said really sunk in.

When it did, a rush of adrenaline went through her and she sat straight up in bed. _"What_ did you say?" _  
_  
As casual as a King lounging upon his throne, Draco eased an arm back and pillowed his head on it. "Oh, come on, he's been relentlessly after you since you cut him dead. I think it was a novel thing for him to be the one tossed aside for once, especially as he'd gone into your relationship under the pretence of making you crawl to him. Instead, he's ended up the one doing all the pining."

He picked at a loose thread on the coverlet, pulling it tight.

"It's all these weddings recently that have aggravated the situation, though, and made him into such a bitter prat. He's finally realising what he stupidly threw away by cheating on you, but he doesn't know how to go about getting you back. His pride's not built to stand down. So, he snaps at you, because negative attention is better than no attention at all."

That was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard—not the theory, because that did seem to fit what she knew of Blaise, but that Blaise would go to such extreme lengths to get her back after tossing her so thoughtlessly and unkindly aside. How completely...idiotic.

But then, as Ron would say, the man was a complete wanker, so nothing Zabini did made much sense to her anyway.

"Sounds as if you know a lot about the situation?" she said, looking askance at her lover. "Have you been watching over me from the sidelines at every event to make sure he doesn't overstep his bounds?"

When he didn't answer, just kept pulling on that thread, she knew he had been doing exactly that.

"Why would you–?"

She stopped, realising exactly why he would put himself in that situation: because he'd clearly had some feelings for her beyond teasing and friendship for years. His Veela certainly seemed to have had, anyway.

"Well, the 'why' doesn't much matter, I suppose. I do appreciate the concern, however." She made to get up, her legs wobbly, but holding. "Regardless, we should both go in to St. Mungo's and get a blood panel done to determine if we were drugged or not," she said, knowing that if it was true, Zabini needed to be arrested for attempted rape. "If Blaise is to be brought up on charges, we need to be official about such things."

Draco sat up abruptly. "Let's not be so hasty! I only said I _suspected_ your ex of doing something that low. I have no actual proof. I certainly didn't see him put something in your drink. Hell, it could just as easily have been Pansy's hired fairies dancing around the reception hall, spreading their 'lust dust' everywhere for all we know. She'd wanted an 'authentic' garden wedding reception, and that included fairies being plied with free nectar to get them to spread the love around so the guests could loosen up a bit. That's not a capital offence, but throwing a sex-pollen party could land her before a magistrate to pay some hefty fines if someone had a bone to pick with her, you know?"

Hermione considered his well-delivered argument…as well as what he wasn't saying about wanting to keep his Veela heritage a secret. It was clear he was panicked about the hospital discovering the genetic anomalies in his blood, and that word might spread that the 'purest of pure-blood families' wasn't quite so genuine about their magical status after all. How she knew this she couldn't say for certain, although she suspected the psychic link between them was to blame. She wasn't reading Draco's mind, _per se_ , but she was picking up on some strong emotional vibes coming from him that had her intuition ringing loud and clear in her head.

Basically, he was afraid, nearer to panic, really. It was obvious he did not want her going to St. Mungo's and getting any blood work done.

His fear reached out and pleaded with her, and Hermione found her heart could not deny him.

"Alright, no trip to the hospital," she agreed, and he sagged with relief. "But that means no recovery of the memory of our first time together and no way of discovering the real reason why that is."

Her disappointment must have been psychically palpable, because Draco reacted to it. He gathered her into his arms and held her close once more. Draped across him in an inelegant, but comfortable sprawl, she let him soothe her, taking some comfort from the fact that a decision had been made, and although it wasn't real closure with an actual answer, it was enough of a compromise for her mind to finally make a grudging peace with it.

Shutting her eyes, she leaned against him, surrounded by his love, and let herself be lulled by his steady heartbeat thumping away under her ear. The boat continued to rock in its mooring under them, and to her surprise, she was finding the gentle swaying to be comforting, too.

"There's always a Pensieve," he offered sometime later, after they'd both nodded off again for a bit.

With a lazy stretch, Hermione sat up and glanced around. The light coming in through the window nearby indicated it was now mid-afternoon, and her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since the night before.

"I don't own one," she told him. Pensieves were notoriously expensive, and far beyond her simple Auror's salary. "We'd have to rent one, or ask Minerva to borrow the one in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts."

Draco watched her get up and look around for her knickers. He was smiling when she squatted down by the side of the bed to look under it, and the expression made his face look years younger. "I've got one back at the Manor," he admitted, and she noted how he openly admired her backside from his position on the bed above her. She could even feel through the psychic link between them how his erection was making a valiant effort to rise once more. "Perhaps between the two of us, we can piece together last night that way, in private?"

As she found her knickers—giving a triumphant, _'A-ha!'_ as she extracted them from the other side of the bedand slipped them up her legs—she wondered aloud, "Speaking of 'private', that reminds me: why didn't you take me back to your Manor for our 'wedding night'? Why bring me here instead?"

Had he been too embarrassed to face his parents, whom she knew still lived within his family's ancestral home, too?

"The yacht is mine," he explained, clearly having heard her internal monologue and wanting to set the record straight for her. "It gives me the freedom to go wherever I want, whenever I want. It's my private space, my solace. I come here sometimes after a particularly hard case to unwind and detox…and I've never shared it with anyone else until you." He stood and drew her into his embrace once more, placing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "There were no bad memories here, either, to ruin our time together."

"You sound like you'd planned out eventually bringing me here."

The idea made her chest go tight with love for him.

 _Had_ he been thinking about it for ten, long years? If so, what was with all the other witches he'd dated? Why hadn't he indicated interest sooner? When, exactly, had he decided that he'd had feelings for her? Why had it taken being drugged either by Zabini or fairies (or anyone, for that matter) to get him to admit he'd liked her?

Draco rubbed at his temple. "You're never going to stop that, are you? Rotting my brain with your constant questions."

"Probably not," she admitted with sham solemnity and a tiny shrug. Truthfully, she figured that if she had to suffer wondering mad things about their relationship, then so did he. After all, if he'd just made a move sooner, she wouldn't be have been in such a state of confusion and frustration to begin with, right? "I think you're in for a miserable hundred or so years with me. Are you absolutely sure that's what you want?"

Rather than reply, Draco growled and bent his head to capture her mouth in a series of tender, teasing kisses. That weird purring started up in his chest again, making her body react with renewed wanting.

Seriously, could a person shag themselves to death?

"We'll have years in which to make new memories, my Granger," he told her around kisses, "so I'm not so concerned about last night's missing marathon."

Strangely, that response actually made her feel better. "So, you're saying, it's not how you start the journey that matters?"

"Right. Being with you to the end is all I care about, love."

Good answer.

Perhaps she'd been wrong when she'd first woken up in bed today and panicked, she thought as she shoved Draco back onto the bed and straddled his lap, ignoring her growling stomach and instead hungrily attacking his mouth. Maybe a drunken one-off wasn't the worst way to begin something new…even if it had been owed to being forced to wear the worst bridesmaid's dress this side of Hell, and of having been tricked by an obssessed ex, or a bunch of fairies, or even a wily Veela mating imperative, and of coping with the rhythmic rolling of a yacht under her (which was beginning to make her feel horny again as it forced her into intimate contact with a certain lovely, long erection).

Maybe, being uninhibited was the perfect way to turn the page on 'what if…?' and to celebrate a new chapter in one's life.

 _ **~FIN~**_

* * *

 **Author's Final Notes:**

 **I hope you enjoyed this silly journey between Veela!Draco and Hermione. Leave me a note and let me know, yeah?**

 **XOXO**


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